FFSC_07

Chapter 7: Foundation Building — Want to Bathe Together?

Struck by a backlash, his spiritual power in chaos, Chen Moqing was about to regulate his breathing once more when his body was already engulfed by a massive shadow.

A large, fluffy mass of fur enveloped him— snow-white and dense, carrying a scorching warmth that completely overwhelmed his field of vision and invaded his breath. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a tuft of fur also stained with fresh blood; he raised his hand intending to gently push it away, but was instead wrapped in even more fur.

The Demon Emperor's enormous body pressed down like a collapsing mountain range, imprisoning the slender human cultivator entirely beneath him, forcing the man's chest to press tightly against the beast's thick-furred abdomen. Strands of silk-like dark hair scattered across the snow-white fur thick as a heavy blanket, making the pair of slender fingers buried in that fur appear all the more thin and pale as jade.

The scene looked exactly like a powerful great demon having caught prey of obviously smaller stature, and was about to feed.

Yet Cang Shun simply lowered his head, his chin slowly coming to rest among Chen Moqing's hair, his retracted sharp claws gently pressing against the man's lower abdomen, channeling a surge of scorching warmth as he transferred spiritual power into him.

Chen Moqing leaned back slightly, propping himself up with both arms to keep from collapsing to the ground, half his face forced flush against the demon beast's burning chest cavity, where he could hear the thunderous, heavy beating of its heart.

Powerful spiritual power poured ceaselessly into his elixir field, flowing along the newly formed spirit veins out toward his four limbs—yet that spiritual power was far too scorching, as though his entire body were being flooded wave after wave by surging heat. His fingers curled slightly, involuntarily gripping the demon beast's snow-white fur.

It seemed… that transmitting spiritual power did not require this particular method—or was this simply the custom of the ancient demon clan five thousand years ago when channeling spiritual power?

Chen Moqing tilted his chin up slightly, a few strands of ink-black hair softly grazing his fair cheek: "I can regulate my breathing on my own."

The fluffy head resting among his hair did not move. From within the mountain-like shadow, a neither light nor indifferent "aowu" fell.

【Benzun's spiritual power is so abundant it can't all be spent. Mind your own business.】

Chen Moqing: He's not meowing this time.

It was nothing more than having spiritual power transferred into him—not like being pierced through the chest by ten thousand swords. It was not difficult to endure.

He quietly closed his eyes and regulated his breathing, and the chaotic spiritual energy soon settled back into calm.

"That's enough."

Cang Shun said nothing, slowly lifting his chin and lowering his gaze to look at the young human cultivator with eyes still closed.

His complexion was pallid, his thin and lovely lips still faintly stained with blood.

Chen Moqing was just about to open his eyes when that enormous fluffy mass suddenly pressed close, rubbing all over his face in a frenzy—and in doing so wiped away the blood at the corner of his mouth as well.

Chen Moqing, his face buried in fur: "……"

Chen Moqing pointed at the fur, which had been spotlessly clean before but was now smeared with several patches of blood: "It's dirty."

Cang Shun let out a matter-of-fact "aowu".

【You wash it for me.】

Chen Moqing: "Alright."

His voice was warm and pleasant to the ear, and Cang Shun fell silent instead.

Without a sound, he lay down beside him, his demon eyes—red as flowing fire—wide open and unblinking as they watched him.

Like a great big dog guarding its home.

Chen Moqing's divine sense sank into his spiritual sea, and within the spiritual sea, he opened a pair of cool, clear eyes.

The talisman refinement just now had been a forcibly interrupted failure without any warning, cut off abruptly by a powerful external force.

—The Withered Wood Spring Revival Decree.

That talisman decree crafted by an immortal tens of thousands of years ago hung suspended high in the sky, like the slowly opening eyes of an immortal, coldly whispering: Life is full of suffering, why struggle.

To walk against the heavens is to come to no good end.

Three years ago, a young sword cultivator in a darkened room used drops of blood as candle flame, refining an immortal talisman decree lost for ten thousand years.

Three years later, a newly born talisman cultivator stood alone beneath the heavenly chasm, let out a soft scoff, and unhurriedly raised a single finger.

"I simply won't."

His divine sense settled directly into a seated meditation within the spiritual sea. A single drop of essence blood rose up from the depths of his heart.

In the guest room, Cang Shun's body tensed in an instant, watching in disbelief as a dot of vivid red seeped out from between the young cultivator's brows—like a cinnabar mole delicately painted on.

That dot of cinnabar connected from afar to the transparent talisman taking shape once more in midair.

"Aowu!"

【Are you trying to infuriate me to death?!】

To use heart's blood to enter a talisman, to refine a talisman with one's very soul—the most extreme and radical method of the demonic path. Should it fail, body and soul would both be annihilated!

In this moment, Cang Shun felt as though he were truly seeing this young cultivator clearly for the first time. Beneath that face which always remained calm and composed, there was concealed a blade—razor-sharp and unstoppable, a sheathe-less sword that would rather cut itself bloody than return to any scabbard!

Within the spirit talisman, Chen Moqing's brows and eyes were lightly closed, without fear and without dread, like one rowing upstream, rising to meet a thousand crashing waves head-on.

The path of the talisman cultivator and that of the sword cultivator, though different roads, lead to the same destination— refining sword and talisman, refining things and objects, refining body and mind, refining heaven and earth—

To contend with oneself, to contend with heaven!

He was determined to contend for supremacy, until he ascended to the Great Path, mounting to the highest steps of heaven upon the bones of his enemies!

Heart's blood as brush, the divine soul as ink— using his own flesh and blood, crossing two realms at once, forcibly refining the talisman!

Brilliant golden radiance lit up from within the darkened room, rising like the moon ascending high, the stars themselves retreating into hiding.

Third-grade Spirit-Guarding Talisman, complete!

Atop the Qianxuan Pavilion in the depth of night, a white-haired woman stood leaning against the railing. The young girl in the yellow skirt beside her suddenly turned to face one direction, her face full of astonishment: "Such tremendous spiritual energy!"

Bai Yue's fingers tightened sharply around the railing: "Ten-fold quality…"

"Only a third-grade talisman of ten-fold quality could produce such a surging wave of spiritual energy!"

She raised her head high, moonlight pouring across her face in full, and spoke word by word, resolute and unwavering: "Master, do you see it? Though those who came before have faded into silence, there are those who come after."

Inside the carriage, Liu Yu sat quietly, both hands resting at his knees.

"Yu'er, the item has been delivered."

The steady voice of an elderly woman came from outside the carriage. Liu Yu's upright shoulders relaxed: "Good. I hope Brother Jiang… will not hold it against the Liu family."

The person outside quietly drove the carriage forward, and only when they had reached a place with no one around did she speak again: "The family head promised only a single treasure as your coming-of-age gift. Having exchanged it for that hundred-year spirit bamboo joint, you will have nothing left."

Liu Yu smiled, picking up a piece of pastry.

The carriage suddenly jolted, and he heard Aunt Zhou's surprised voice: "What a surging ripple of spiritual energy! Who could be refining a treasure?"

That night, cultivators across half of Qingzhu City sensed a vast torrent of spiritual energy surging forth—like a great river rising with the tide, rushing and tumbling in full force. Even the ancient talismanic script carved into the city walls resonated with it, lighting up one by one, laying out a full sky of stars across the night.

Such a scene had only occurred once before, two hundred years ago, when a Golden Core talisman cultivator defied the heavens and refined a fifth-grade talisman— and afterward, that extraordinarily gifted talisman cultivator fell, swiftly and for reasons unknown.

This night, that scene of years past was replicated once more. Every cultivator who witnessed it understood: yet another talisman path genius had appeared out of nowhere!

"Which fellow Daoist is refining talismans here?"

Beneath the night sky, a middle-aged man in a dark gold cloak stood atop the roof of the inn, hands clasped behind his back, his full cultivation sweeping outward.

Mid Golden Core stage.

The Liu family head— Liu Ao.

"Would you be willing to come out for a meeting?"

A woman then appeared before him, her white hair drifting lightly in the wind: "Patriarch Liu, it has been a long time. You don't look well."

In the span of a single night, the two great Golden Core powerhouses of Qingzhu City came face to face.

"Who does Patriarch Liu suppose was able to refine a third-grade talisman?" Bai Yue smiled lightly, "That fellow Daoist does not wish to be disturbed at the moment, Patriarch Liu had best go on back."

Liu Ao paid her no attention, simply saying in a cold voice: "I ask that this fellow Daoist show themselves for a word."

Having refined a third-grade talisman, even a Golden Core cultivator would surely have expended an enormous amount. The killing of his Liu family servants, the humiliation dealt to the Liu family's reputation, the lying low until now— it had all been for the sake of waiting for this very moment.

No matter what, today he would make that audacious wretch who had dared to offend the Liu family pay the price.

The inn beneath the moonlight was utterly silent. Liu Ao let out a cold snort and raised his foot to step forward—

Bai Yue's sleeves billowed as several talismans were already laid out like a heaven-spanning net, cleaving the night into two.

Liu Ao laughed coldly: "What's this, does Manager Bai also wish to lay eyes on my Liu family's inherited treasure?"

Bai Yue laughed heartily: "And why not?"

Liu Ao's dark, gloomy eyes fixed on her for several seconds, his voice quiet and cold: "Since Manager Bai is so insistent on blocking the way, then let it go for tonight!"

He flung his sleeves and turned to leave.

Bai Yue flicked her wrist and slowly began withdrawing her talismans. When she suddenly saw Liu Ao's figure make a sharp turn in midair, a sharp sword no bigger than a palm shooting out from his sleeve, and in the blink of an eye it had grazed past her body and slammed toward the inn!

He had thrown all dignity aside!

Bai Yue cursed furiously and flung out another talisman—

Suddenly a might as vast as mountains and seas swept out from within the inn. The sword and the talisman shattered in an instant. Liu Ao was sent flying back several zhang, crashed into the city wall, and coughed up a great mouthful of blood.

【Get lost.】

A voice—murderous and razor-sharp—rang directly within the minds of both, and beneath an unfathomable pressure, the two Golden Core cultivators present could not lift their heads, and even standing upright was a struggle.

"This junior begs the senior's forgiveness!"

Liu Ao's face had long since gone ashen. The blood he kept coughing up quickly soaked through his cloak, and his trembling hands cupped together in a fist: "This junior withdraws at once!"

Within a few breaths, the Liu family head had stumbled and flown out of sight.

Bai Yue: "……"

There was a hidden expert here?

She looked down at the inn, which had returned to quiet, and thought carefully about that senior's voice just now—it was entirely unfamiliar. Come to think of it, by Jiang Yu's side there seemed to be only…

She silently sat down cross-legged, shook a packet of sunflower seeds from her sleeve—a gift from her good disciple—and began cracking them in the moonlight.

Inside the guest room, Cang Shun narrowed his eyes coldly, his sharp claws sinking into the inn's floor and carving deep gashes into it.

No wonder he had insisted on a third-grade Spirit-Guarding Talisman—this was nothing like the difficulty a normal cultivator ought to face when breaking through to Foundation Building!

Those crimson demon eyes fixed in deep focus upon a blood-soaked figure. The young human cultivator sat with eyes closed in meditation, a golden talisman suspended overhead, the lean frame beneath his robes trembling faintly, blood seeping ceaselessly out, like beautiful white porcelain filled to the brim with liquid and shattering inch by inch, until it had soaked him into something resembling a man made of blood.

This scene, Cang Shun had witnessed it countless times in the northern frontier of the Zhou Kingdom.

Each time, it had carved itself deeply into his eyes.

Within the spiritual sea, Chen Moqing's divine sense was climbing a mountain with no visible summit.

His dark, ink-black eyes were filled with brilliant golden talismanic script—deep gold casting its reflection, like an ink-dark lake gilded by the slanting sun, utterly without ripple or wave.

Each step forward was a mountain of razor-sharp blades, oil poured onto raging fire, endlessly searing and scorching the divine sense.

"Qing'er."

A husky yet gentle woman's voice rose up behind him.

"Mother made osmanthus cakes. Come home early today."

"Have you finished reviewing your coursework? Go and copy yesterday's Dao discourse ten more times, " Another voice followed, unhurried and drawn out, belonging to a man.

"Xiao Qing, here. This month's wages paid to you in advance. Take it and get your mother treated," A woman's laughter, clean and crisp.

The shadowy figures of people from the past drifted around him, as though beckoning with longing, calling him to turn back.

Chen Moqing did not turn back, nor did he stop.

He pressed on without pause, step after step, until the talismanic script in his eyes shattered completely, and his divine sense too cracked inch by inch, covered in spider-web fractures.

For cultivators, the divine sense is of utmost importance—even minor damage to it is more agonizing than having one's body sliced by a thousand blades.

And yet at this moment, there was not a single trace of expression on Chen Moqing's face.

What was this pain, compared to the agony of watching every last family member perish before his eyes— ten thousand swords driven through the heart?

He pressed forward, and with heavy finality, took that last step—

Treading upon the heavenly stair, ascending the heavenly chasm!

Towering, monstrous waves rose up in an instant, spiritual energy transforming into a howling, raging storm that swept across the entire spiritual sea.

When the storm cleared and the sky opened, the young cultivator stood alone atop the mountain peak, his robes drifting in the wind, gazing down from his great height over the road he had traveled.

The light boat had already passed ten thousand mountains.

—He had reached mid-Foundation Building stage!

The very next moment, a new heavenly chasm rose up from the ground, towering even higher than before, even more impossibly out of reach.

The mountain peak Chen Moqing had been standing upon had become a mere foothill at the base, and standing here now, the new summit was entirely beyond sight.

Chen Moqing calmly lifted his head, meeting the gaze of the Withered Wood Spring Revival Decree that still hung suspended above the spiritual sea.

Though he had replicated this talisman decree, its power was too immense, and it did not fully answer to his control.

This talisman refinement had been an accident—from here on, he would be more careful.

He sat down cross-legged where he stood, and his fractured divine sense began to slowly mend itself. Another grueling process, like having flesh and bone refilled after the skin had been stripped away, yet throughout it all his expression never changed.

How much time passed was unclear, but eventually those calm, deep eyes opened.

Before him, a slender red branch had quietly grown up, its tip splitting into several fine twigs, facing the Withered Wood Spring Revival Decree from afar.

—This was his own, newly born talisman path spiritual root.

Eight branches in total.

A thought stirred faintly in Chen Moqing's mind.

Perhaps because the talisman path shares the same origin, the newly born root bone had actually come under the protection of the Withered Wood Spring Revival Decree, rendering the sword qi left behind by Yu Bai unable to destroy it.

Once he had fully mastered the Withered Wood Spring Revival Decree, perhaps he could use it to completely cleanse the sword qi of Yu Bai.

Before withdrawing from the spiritual sea, Chen Moqing cast one last glance at that heavenly chasm.

The next time he crossed a heavenly chasm, he would ascend to Golden Core.

His consciousness returned to the present world, and he met a pair of crimson eyes close enough to touch, like the flowing fire of evening clouds.

A large mass of fluff pressed tightly against him, like a fur cloak that had forcibly adhered itself to him, not letting a single breath of wind through.

Whether it was his imagination or not, this Demon Emperor seemed to be… absolutely seething with resentment.

Chen Moqing raised his hand and smoothed down the bristling fur: "I'm fine."

Given his condition just now, it was understandable that Cang Shun would worry about being affected by the contract.

There was no telling how many grudges this Demon Emperor had quietly tallied against him—when the contract was undone… there would surely be a reckoning between them.

Cang Shun looked at the young man before him—draped in blood-soaked robes, dark hair falling to his waist, features of breathtaking beauty, bearing of transcendent grace—and somehow, the fury that had filled him to the brim dissipated in an instant by more than half.

…Even he did not know why, just now, watching this human get himself drenched in blood all over again had made him so angry.

The Demon Emperor fell silent, and in a huff began nudging against him, pressing and squeezing around at his side.

After a while of this, he shifted back into a small, round, fluffy little ball—no bigger than two palms—still with his fur all bristled up, bumping lightly against Chen Moqing one knock at a time.

Chen Moqing: Still holding a grudge.

No matter. One more debt makes no difference when you already owe so many.

He rose to his feet, and from the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of the mirror.

The concealment talisman had worn off. This was now his true appearance and build.

The wounds on his body had already healed. He scooped up the snow-white little beast with one arm and began stripping off his blood-soaked robes.

The outer robe slipped away, revealing a tall and slender frame. The inner garment was half undone, and beneath the lapels, the expanse from shoulder and neck down to his chest was a gleaming white. Well-defined muscle traced clean lines over a well-proportioned frame, a handful of silk-like dark hair trailing across his chest and winding down along the contours, disappearing into the lustrous, mutton-fat jade-like whiteness of his narrow waist and abdomen.

And it was precisely at this moment that Cang Shun looked up— walking straight into this sight without any warning.

"Shall I call them to bring water, would you like to bathe together?" Chen Moqing said to him with composure, his true face now unhidden.

No response.

He glanced down. The snow-white little beast on his arm had gone completely still, stiff as a wooden ball.

He picked it up by the scruff and gave it a little shake.

For reasons unknown, the Demon Emperor—who in the past would start crying loudly the moment he was picked up like this—this time swayed slowly in midair three times before finally extending a paw and latching onto Chen Moqing's wrist.

Chen Moqing watched as the snow-white little beast climbed back up his arm without a word, turned its body away, gave its fluff a little shake, and let out a small, quiet "mew".

【The humans of this age... how, how can they be so…】

The little fluffy ball muttered and grumbled to itself.

Not even bristling this time— its snow-white fur drooped soft and flat, the beast quietly mumbling away to itself under its breath.

Chen Moqing: "Bathing. Yes or no?"

【…Yes.】

Previous | TOC | Next